


The Epic Tale of Claude

by AcePlum



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Imaginary Friends, Living Toys, POV First Person, Teenagers, Unreliable Narrator, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcePlum/pseuds/AcePlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is a book about me, Claude, so read it because if you don't the evil duck will get you. It almost got me, but I was too smart for it. Evil ducks are no match for my amazing skills. That's why I wrote this memoir: so you can learn from my immense wisdom and use your new-found skills to avoid unpleasant situations like violent death, or visiting your relatives."</p>
<p>Claude Marbles is a perfectly ordinary teenage boy. Well, except for his crippling fear of catching deadly cooties from a girl. And I suppose it's not exactly normal to believe your toys are alive. Also there probably aren't many people who have a teddy bear for an arch-nemesis. In fact, Claude isn't normal at all. But when his slobby layabout cousin Jean goes missing, Claude decides he's the only one competent enough to find him, and sets off on a rescue mission, accompanied by Phoebus the doll and Marie the fire-spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: An Introduction to Me, Claude

This is a book about me, Claude, and you should read it because if you don't the evil duck will get you. It almost got me, but I was too smart for it. Evil ducks are no match for my amazing skills. My book will teach you to be smart like me, not dumb like my cousin Jean, who is a boy. That’s a long story, but not too long, so I'll tell you.

I was out on my bike. This has nothing to do with Jean – I'm just mentioning what I happened to be doing at the time because everything I do is significant in some way. Oh, and I had a bagel in my left pocket. Just saying. Anyway, Jean was in the pub trying to buy some beer, but he was too young to buy any, so he came and begged me to get him some. Obviously, I wouldn't buy him any because beer poisons your brain, and Jean doesn't need any more brain damage. There was also the issue that I'm only two years older than Jean is, so it would be unlikely that the barman would sell any beer to me either. So Jean started crying and I gave him a rattle to shut him up. It was blue. That's it. He's called Jean because his Mummy named him that. That story was just a random thing that happened which I thought might interest you.

Jean's Mummy is my Mummy's sister and they look exactly the same, except that Jean's Mummy has bright pink hair and my Mummy has blonde hair and Jean's Mummy has brown eyes and mine has blue eyes. Actually they don't look the same at all. Jean looks different from me, which is good because that means my Mummy won't accidentally take him home instead of me. I have brown hair and blue eyes and I have glasses so I can see if there are any mice under my bed. If there are, I sleep in the cupboard.

I have three cupboards in my room. One is the cupboard I sleep in if there's mice under my bed. I also hide in there if visitors come to the house. I keep some cheese in there so I can make cheese models if I get bored - I'm getting very good at it. Another cupboard is the Deformed Cupboard, which is where I put toys that are deformed and broken, and also any toys which are naughty. Mostly it's Phoebus who ends up in there. Phoebus is the opposite of Jean – it's a girl doll with a boy's name, which is what makes it an it instead of a he or a she. The third cupboard is my Hibernating Cupboard, which I used to hibernate in one winter. I gave up when I ran out of Coca-Cola. Now I keep it to use as an emergency shelter in the case of a major disaster, like nuclear war or running out of cookies.

I think I get my emergency-shelter-building instincts from my Daddy, who lives in his panic room, which he built when I was born. I don't know why – it can't be my fault. He never comes out and he's nailed the door shut, so Mummy has to put his food through the flap. I'm not allowed to go in the room where Daddy’s panic room is, because it makes Daddy scream and bang his head against the door. Silly man. However, I do go in at Christmas with Mummy and we all play Turkey. It's a card game, but I won't explain the rules because there aren't any: you just grab the cards off other people and fight them for the best ones, which are the ones I haven't scribbled on. I always win because Mummy hits like a girl and Daddy throws his cards out of the panic room and screams 'murderous peanuts!'. He never got over Granny choking on one. I kind of shoved it into her mouth to shut her up, but it's not my fault she died. It might seem like it is but it isn't really. I'm innocent, and I proved it by sticking a piece of paper with 'innocent' written on it to my forehead. After a while I had proved it to everyone, so I replaced the 'innocent' sticker with one that said 'Claude', so people would remember my name. But it fell off.

The idea of name stickers stayed with me, so I decided to put name stickers on my toys and make them join Alcoholics Anonymous, which is stupid because it's not anonymous if you tell everyone your name. So I put name tags on them and we went round going 'Hello, I'm Phoebus' 'Hi Phoebus.' and so on for every toy, except we didn't say 'Phoebus', because they had different names. Although Phoebus definitely isn't my favourite toy, I generally play with it most. It's naughty and I have to smack it and not give it any strawberries. Phoebus is mad on strawberries – it steals mine so I have to ask Mummy for more. I don't eat them; Phoebus does.

Pretty Dolly is my favourite toy, but I don't take her anywhere. I leave her in my bed so she won't get stolen by robbers and thieves and burglars. At night she likes to dance. She's not very good at dancing, but she's getting better.

One doll is called Mini-Mummy because she looks like my Mummy. She's a rag doll like Pretty Dolly, but Pretty Dolly is more tanned and has darker hair and is just the slightest bit smaller. Mini-Mummy tells me to eat my greens just like my real Mummy. Only I can't shove my real Mummy in the Deformed Cupboard if she gets annoying. I tried – she doesn't fit.

The biggest toy I have is Archie the teddy bear. He's also my arch-nemesis because he forces me to do stuff. Like when I was at the swing park and I was sat at the top of the big slide. Mummy told me I couldn't go down, but Archie pushed me. She didn't believe me, so I went back to wearing my 'innocent' sign, which I customised to say 'Archie pushed me' underneath the 'innocent'. Archie's brown with an orange tummy. He'd be about half as tall as Mummy if you put him next to her on the floor but he'd be bigger if you put him on the table. I'm bigger than Mummy because she's only as big as a seven year old boy. She looks like a boy, too. Well, she looks like a girl but she wears boys’ clothes because girls scare me. Unless they have boys' names or are made of fabric.

That's why I don't go to school – there are girls are there. I suppose I could go to an all-boys school, but why bother when I can teach myself from the internet? That's how I learnt how to fold the perfect paper aeroplane, which will be very useful to me in my later life if I need to send a message and don't have any bottles to float across the sea. Mummy won't let me have a mobile phone any more because Phoebus kept phoning for pizza. Phoebus doesn’t even like pizza, and neither do I, so Mummy had to eat it and it made her fat. She went to the gym to get fit, and she took me, but I didn't want to exercise because it makes me feel sick, ever since I threw up on sports' day, which is another reason I stopped going to school. So while Mummy did exercise, I played Dead Fish with Phoebus. For some reason, Phoebus always won...

Because Daddy spends all his time in the panic room, Mummy needs a good job to look after us all. Fortunately, she has one: she makes plasticine animals for children. She took me to work with her once, but she had to take me home because I kept eating the plasticine. I can't remember how old I was then, maybe eleven or twelve. Anyway, she gets plenty of money – enough to buy me Smarties. She gets lots of packets and separates them into colours, because I only eat certain colours on certain days. On Mondays I eat the red ones, on Tuesdays the blue ones, the orange ones on Wednesdays, Thursdays it's the yellow ones, Friday is a green Smartie day, Saturday is purple and Sunday is brown. I don't eat the pink ones. Pink is evil.


	2. Chapter Two: My Toys (And the Ridiculous Nonsense they get up to)

One Tuesday - I know it was a Tuesday because I remember eating some blue Smarties - something was bothering me. I checked my room for axe-murderers to see if there was one waiting for me. Luckily, I survived, partly because of my ninja-pirate-wizard skills, but mainly because there was nobody there. After I checked all my toys for hidden explosives (and cigarettes – JJ the Seal is supposed to be quitting) I realised what was wrong.

“Mummy!” I called. Mummy came into my room, wearing a t-shirt that said she'd swap her sister for sweets, crisps or chocolate. I wouldn't swap Auntie Dora for that. I'd ask for a castle with a big tower and a room full of plastic balls. “Phoebus is ugly!” I continued.

“Hmm,” mused Mummy, picking Phoebus up, “Looks like he does need a little makeover.”

“Who's gonna give it a makeover?” I asked, irritated that she'd called Phoebus a 'he'. It wasn't a he or a she – that was the whole point of Phoebus, “You can't do makeovers – look at my clothes!” My t-shirt had a whale on it. Whales are so last year. Llamas are in now.

“I'll take him to the Makeover Lady,” Mummy decided, turning for the door.

“And you're dressed like a man!” I added, although I preferred it that way. I wanted to prove something. I'd forgotten what it was, but it was something. “Sorry Mummy,” I muttered when Mummy gave me a 'look'.

“Eat your greens,” she reminded me.

I spent the next hour teaching JJ the Seal to play poker. I learnt how to play from Auntie Kate, who is Daddy's sister and also happens to be the Makeover Lady. She taught Jean too, but I'm better. Jean played poker at school and lost all his pocket money to some guy named Boris. Anyway, JJ turned out to be rubbish too, so I shoved him into the Deformed Cupboard with Broken Robot and Old Teddy. I got the rest of the toys to sit with me and watch Pretty Dolly dance. I swear she's getting better: she only fell over three times.

Soon after Pretty Dolly finished dancing, I was bored, so I went downstairs and turned some things upside-down to freak Mummy out - she's so easily bothered by me doing things to the furniture, like the time I tried to sew all the sofas together to make a huge mega-sofa. I was going to win a Nobel Prize for that and become a billionaire, but Mummy dismantled it before I could have my big chance.

I barely noticed when Mummy came home because I was so engrossed in drawing a self-portrait on the telly so I can be on TV. I thought it looked good, but Mummy made me scrub it off so she could watch Teletubbies. That show scares me.

The next morning I woke up feeling in a bookish mood so I started reading a book called 'Blackberry Feet'. My Daddy wrote it before he went crazy. Well, he didn't really write it because it just has pictures of cows in it, but he chose the pictures to stimulate the mind. I think it worked – my mind was feeling nice and stimulated – but then Mummy interrupted.

“Claude, tidy your room!” she called. “I'm busy Mummy!” I replied, though I gave up. 'Blackberry Feet' just wasn't as powerful and moving when you got interrupted.

Instead, I decided to practise ventriloquism with Scrawny-Bird-Thing, which is a puppet that you put on your arm and use your hand to work the mouth.

“Claude!” Mummy called, “Tidy your room!”

“I'm busy Mummy!” I made Scrawny-Bird-Thing reply, “Hey, I'm getting good at this!” I noted in my own voice. I carried on for a while, but Scrawny-Bird-Thing started to irritate me, so I strangled him.

“Claude, tidy your room!” Mummy reminded me.

“I'm busy Mummy!” I yelled, bashing Scrawny-Bird-Thing against the wardrobe.

Next on my to-do list was hypnotising Archie the Arch-Nemesis with a yo-yo. It was the yo-yo I gave to Phoebus every night. It wards off demons and girls, which I can't really tell apart. Yet again, Mummy had to interrupt. Didn't she know I had important business?

“Claude, tidy your room!” “I'm busy Mummy!” I yelled. I got so cross that the yo-yo wrapped around my wrist and freed Archie from his stupor. I was going to have fun with him! Stupid Mummy.

Since Archie would no longer do my bidding, I picked up my Chinese fan and hit him with it over and over. It was fun, and it helped tone my arm muscles, but guess what. Mummy had to spoil the fun again.

“Claude, tidy your room!”

“I'm! Busy! Mummy!” I yelled, still hitting Archie. I felt all wound up, so I decided to relax by spinning on the desk chair in the study. Needless to say, I didn't get to relax for long.

“Claude, I've told you a million times to tidy your room!”

“Mummy, I'm busy!” I called, so exasperated that I changed the word order. That did it for Mummy.

“Claude!” she yelled, storming into the room and yanking me off the chair.

“No! No! Spinny chair!” I moaned, but Mummy dragged me to my room.

“You need to sort out your toys!” she ordered.

“OK, fine, I'll put them into some categories or something,” I sighed, “Just randomly chuck them at me. Ah, it's Phoebus,” I said when I caught the first toy. “Ooh, looks like somebody's given it a makeover!” Phoebus definitely looked better, but it ate my strawberries, so I banished it to the Stupid Corner. The next toy Mummy threw at me was a ginger doll in a bikini, so I screamed and threw it out of the room. Sexy dollies are the spawn of the devil.

“Robot,” said Mummy, tossing me the next toy. The robot was falling apart.

“Eeeuuich,” I exclaimed, kicking it with my toe, “It's deformed.” Mummy put it into the Deformed Cupboard for me. The next one was Mini-Mummy, who told me to eat my greens. I made her sit with Mummy. Best to group like with like. Then it was Pretty Dolly, who I chose to sit on my chair with me. The other toys were a deformed teddy; Archie, who wouldn't fit into the stupid corner until I shoved him, and JJ the Seal, who still smelled of smoke. Scrawny-Bird-Thing didn't turn up because he was already serving time in the Deformed Cupboard for biting me. We were done soon, and I was able to go back to doing what I wanted: spinning on the spinny chair.


	3. Chapter Three – The Evil Duck (And How I Outwitted It)

The next day, when I was balancing 'Blackberry Feet' on my head, my Auntie Kate came to see me. Not the one with pink hair, the one that gave Phoebus a makeover. She brought me a present. It was a duck, which was quite flat, so I called it 'Flatty'. Auntie tried to hug me, but I stopped her so she wouldn't give me cooties. All girls have cooties except Mummy. I gave her a vaccine which I made myself. You make it with water, sugar, salt and pepper. All my toys had it too – they got washed in it but Mummy and I had to drink it. It was disgusting, but at least we were protected against cooties.

For the rest of the day, I rolled on the floor trying to escape the flying pigs. It was a game Phoebus liked to play, because it got to be the flying pig and I hung it from the ceiling. Phoebus liked to fly. Eventually, it got late and Mummy told me to put my pyjamas on. I wear my whale t-shirt as a pyjama top now because it's out of fashion. I put my toys in their bedtime places. I put them there every night because if I don't the world will end. Pretty Dolly goes on my pillow so she can do a dance to entertain me if I get bored in the night. Mini-Mummy sits on my bed against the wall to look after me when my real Mummy falls asleep. Phoebus stands guard with the yo-yo. Everyone else gets heaped into a pile, except the deformed things. I put Flatty the duck by the radio because I didn't know what to do with him yet.

Mummy came and tucked me in, and I was just drifting off to sleep when a voice said:

“I'm gonna kill you Claude!” I sat up in panic and looked around for axe-murderers and ghouls and vampires, but I didn't spot any, so I lay back down. “I'm getting closer!” said the voice. I looked around again. Then I noticed what had happened. The duck had moved!

“Noooooooooooooooooooooo,” I screamed, as the duck came closer, talking to me in its annoying squeaky voice. It nearly had me, but Mummy got there just in time.

“Claude, Claude, what's the matter?” she asked.

“It tried to kill me,” I whimpered, “The duck.” Mummy didn't believe me.

“Aw, Claude,” she sighed, “I'm just gonna pop it back.”

“No, no, no!” I protested, “Put it in the cupboard! In the Deformed Cupboard!”

“It'll be okay,” Mummy interrupted.

“No Mummy, put it in the cupboard! Pleeeeease.”

“Claude it's just a duck.”

“Aaaagh, nooo!” I screamed. The duck was coming for me again.

“No matter how many times you call your mom I'll get you eventually!” It threatened me in a cheerful voice that made me want to bolt for the door and lock myself in Daddy's panic room. That, however, would not help his sanity. The duck came closer and I screamed:

“Phoebus, save me!” I should have known it would abandon me in my darkest hour. It shot itself across the room. It's such a coward. Once again, Mummy came to help me. This time she did put the duck in the cupboard, but it called to me still:

“I'm still gonna get you Claude!” it threatened. I had to do something. I decided to pile a load of things against the cupboard, including the big brown chair we got from the car boot sale, the entire pile of toys and Phoebus the traitor.

“It'll never get out of there.” I insisted. For once in my life, I was wrong.

“Over here Claude!” came a voice from behind me. It was the duck, of course, and it was on my bed! I had to think fast or I would die, and the world would descend into chaos without me. Then it came to me – I would put it in the shredder! That's how I got rid of Scrawny-Bird-Thing's older brother and every maroon sweater my granny ever knitted. Since it would probably kill me if I touched it, I used Scrawny-Bird-Thing to pick it up and carry it to the shredder, which was conveniently located just through Mummy's doorway.

“Claude! Go to bed!” Mummy shouted, appearing in the doorway. She must have heard the shredding noise.

“Okay,” I agreed, now that the threat was gone, “Night night Mummy,” I made Scrawny-Bird-Thing say. Mummy took me back to bed and tucked me in. I soon drifted off to sleep, but I'm sure I heard the duck saying 'Goodnight Claude'. Must have been dreaming.

It wasn't long after that when Mummy and Auntie Dora (the pink haired one) went to town to go shopping, and they took me and Jean with them because nobody else could look after us on that particular day. The babysitting agency hung up on Mummy as soon as she gave them her name. Strange, that. It can't be to do with me, or the time I shut the babysitter's two-year-old brother in my cupboard. His nose was too big. Anyway, we were going shopping. I tried to play I-Spy with Jean but he just kept singing about shoes, which got a bit annoying, so I pushed him down the 'up' escalator. It took him a long time to get to the bottom. Then Archie appeared from nowhere and sang a song. I couldn’t easily make out the meaning, but I could tell he was trying to guilt trip me into apologising to Jean. I ignored him – I never apologise to anyone because people only apologise when they’re wrong – but Phoebus went to help Jean up the stairs. He was all right. Well, as right as Jean ever was. I swear he only has half a brain.

Well, the fall shook him out of the 'shoes' mood, so we played a bit of I-Spy. I guessed Jean's every time because it was always 'Mummy', which was Auntie Dora, not Mummy, because Auntie Dora is Jean's mummy. Instead of going in a proper shop, Jean dragged me to this crane machine. He spent three hours trying to get the same yellow bunny, and he used up all his spending money. Eventually, after I finished three books about cheese, I felt sorry for him and got him the bunny. Well, I tried, but Phoebus knocked my arm so I didn't get it. Auntie Dora did, using the skills that won her the title of World Crane Machine Champion, but only to stop Jean having a fit on the floor. You can't take him anywhere.

We had lunch in this café place. I only had grapes because everything else involved either fish or blackberries. I tried to eat them properly but Phoebus kept dropping them on the floor. Mummy told me off, but it was Phoebus's fault. Nobody ever believes me, and I always get blamed for what Phoebus does. It's really annoying. Jean wanted beer, but Auntie Dora said no. Jean is a nutcase. A total nutcase. I don't see how Auntie Dora puts up with him. She should put him in a cell with spongy walls; a bit like Daddy's panic room, but more child-sized.

After we'd finished our food, Mummy and Auntie Dora took us to the park. Jean and I went on the swings, and I went the opposite way to him. I always have to go the opposite way to the other people on the swings. Jean tried to use the swing as a trapeze and fell off, so I did my maniacal laughing until Phoebus pushed me off the swing. I'm getting good at maniacal laughing – soon I'll be able to audition to be a villain in a movie. I have a black cape especially for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean is singing this song when he sings about shoes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCF3ywukQYA


	4. Chapter Four – Jean Gets in Trouble (For the Millionth Time)

This morning I woke up to the cheerful sound of my mother screaming to be let out of the coat cupboard. Oops, I thought I'd let her out last night. Or had that been a dream? Then I remembered that there had been pandas in the house doing the Macarena. It must have been a dream – everyone knows that pandas really do the Hokey Cokey. 

After I freed my mother from the cupboard and gave her her medication (which is actually jelly beans – the 'healing' is all in her head), I decided to do my homework. Not really do my homework – I don't actually go to school any more so I don't have any homework, and Phoebus always used to eat it anyway – but do what I always do when I pretend to be doing my homework: spy on people from my attic lair. 

My attic lair is up in our loft conversion, which is up a load of stairs next to my bedroom. You have to go up two lots of stairs to get to the attic lair, so I have to drink an energy drink to help me get up. If I don't have an energy drink I fall down the stairs.

After about five minutes of chewing the stick I keep in the attic - the energy drinks make me hyper so I have to channel it constructively by using it to chew through wood - I peeked out of the window with my binoculars to see if anything had happened since I last came up to the attic. Nothing much was new: Mr-Next-Door-Man's garden was on fire and the people on the other side were being tortured by a mad guy in a clown mask, but there was nothing worth reporting. I decided to pass time by digging a hole in the floor with a plastic spoon. I've been working on it since I was six and I've almost got through the carpet. By the time I'm forty I'll be through to my room and I can use my turbo-powered fishing rod to fetch things instead of going downstairs, which would make me even more tired then because I'd be old. 

I'd scratched away another thousandth of a millimetre of carpet when I suddenly realised that something was wrong. I hoped it wasn't the duck again. Well not the same duck, because I shredded it, but another duck. After I methodically searched the entire room for ducks and vampires and the Chuckle Brothers' evil twins, I realised that I wasn't sensing danger, or predicting a tsunami in some far off place that I can't pronounce. I was getting signals on my 'Jean radar', which warns me if my cousin is going to get into trouble. Normally I ignore it because Jean is always in trouble, but because I had nothing else to do today, I decided I would investigate by calling Jean's mobile phone.

Oh, the story's caught up to us in real time... um... imagine some catchy hold music while I go call Jean...

...Random hold music...

OK, back to the story. Hopefully that won't happen again. I called Jean five times and he didn't pick up, but on the sixth ring, when I got so bored I stood on my head, he answered. Note to self: stand on your head to call Jean in the future.  
“Hello Jean,” I greeted him. Nothing. That's very rude. People should answer me when I talk, not spit things in my face, because my opinions are important, unlike Jean's, which make no sense.  
“Jean, are you there?” I was getting bored and was about to hang up, when I heard him.   
“Hello Claude,” he replied, “I'm absolutely fine and I haven't been kidnapped or anything, so don't worry about me. I'm just eating a plate of sausages. Yummy sausages! Bye!” Then he hung up. Again, very rude. But it's Jean. He's always rude to me – he even calls me Fishface. Wait... if Jean always calls me Fishface, then why did he just use my real name? And he doesn't even like sausages, I realised. Something was very wrong!!! So wrong I used three exclamation marks! Yes, Jean was in trouble, and since nobody listens to me when Jean is in peril, I would have to rescue him myself. 

Since this was a mega-emergency, I summoned my friend Marie. (I know I said I didn't like girls, and I don't, but Marie is a fire-spirit, so she doesn't count. And I gave her cootie medicine. In fact, do fire-spirits even have genders?) Marie can only be summoned when I set something on fire and sing the 'Summoning-Marie-from-the-Fire' song. I'll have to come up with a catchier title for that... 

I got one of Daddy's socks (which he doesn't actually need since socks give him the heebie-jeebies) and set it on fire in my fireplace in my room. Nobody knows it's there but me, because I hid it from view with the genius idea of a painting of a wall with no fireplace. I sang the song that summoned Marie, and she appeared to help me. She only speaks in fire-language, which I happen to know, but I'll translate it for you less-intelligent people (dum-dums, for those who don't know what 'intelligent' means)   
“I seek your help in a matter of great importance, oh great Marie,” I chanted with my hands on my shoulders, the way I always talk to Marie. It makes her trust me more.  
“What do you need, Claude?” she asked in fire-language  
“We need to rescue my cousin from awful perilous danger!” I answered.  
“Isn't that the one who calls you Fishface?” asked Marie.  
“Yes, but I need him around because he's dumb. He makes me look even smarter.” I started packing for my expedition. I used my favourite bag, the one with the letter P's all over it. Letter P's had replaced llamas as the new fashion. I had swapped my llama t-shirt for a beige sweater with multi-coloured letter P's on it. I packed three cans of Coke, a big block of cheese, a bag of animal biscuits and some books: mainly ones that Daddy wrote, but also a few of mine that I wrote. I like to share my own wisdom with myself. Now it was time to choose my team.

The possible candidates lined up in front of me in a row. It took ages for them to get in line because Phoebus wanted to finish the game of poker it was playing with Archie, but I forced them to come and fed the cards to Scrawny-Bird-Thing. I can get them back later. Everyone was clamouring to be chosen, but I had to be firm. I was going to do this by process of elimination.

The first person I eliminated was JJ the Seal, because he was still smoking. I thought I'd destroyed all his cigarettes. I'll have to find the ones he's hidden so he can finally quit. Next was Pretty Dolly, because she needed to be kept safe. I would leave Archie here as a bodyguard, because although he hates me, he likes Pretty Dolly. That left me with Phoebus, Mini-Mummy, Scrawny-Bird-Thing and the deformed robot and teddy. Obviously I wasn't taking anyone deformed with me, and I left Scrawny-Bird-Thing to make sure they stayed in the cupboard where they belonged. I decided to take Mini-Mummy, to remind me of Mummy, and Phoebus, because it needs constant watching. I left Pretty Dolly in charge because she's the only one I can trust, seeing as everyone else is either a smoker (JJ), deformed (robot and teddy), addicted to Club Penguin (Scrawny-Bird-Thing) or evil (Archie).

I headed downstairs looking like an important expedition leader.   
“Where are you off to?” asked Mummy, looking up from her In the Night Garden comic.   
“To save Jean from mortal peril,” I replied.  
“Be back for lunch,” she said. I opened the door and I was off.


	5. Chapter Five – The Truth About Jean (And How Badly He Screwed Up)

Jean's house was just down the road from my house, so it didn't take long for us to get there, although Phoebus insisted on opening the animal biscuits. I never knock on the door to Auntie Dora's because I know where she keeps the spare key – in the gnome by the steps. I just went in, doing my special bird-call so they knew it was me.   
“Hello Claude,” called Auntie Dora from the lounge, “You'll be here to see Jean. I'm sorry, but he's gone out.”  
“OK,” I answered. So Jean wasn't at home. Maybe he'd been kidnapped! There might be clues in his room... “I came to get back the glue I lent him,” I lied, “I'll go see if it's in his room.”  
“OK.” I headed up the stairs into Jean's room, which was messy, like it always is. He likes to collect apple cores under his bed. I began my search for clues, which was also an opportunity to snoop through his stuff.

Most of what I found was junk, but then I noticed the letter lying on the desk, on top of a pile of dirty clothes. I decided to read it, because it might have useful information about Jean's mysterious disappearance. You wouldn’t understand what it said because it was written in fire language. Marie and I have translated it for you here:

Jean belongs to me now because he sold me his soul for beer.  
The Devil 

“Ugh, that's so Jean!” I complained.  
“What are we going to do now?” asked Marie.  
“We're gonna go to Hell and rescue him of course,” I answered, “But we'll have to nick some food from Auntie Dora – Phoebus has eaten all the animal biscuits.”

Auntie Dora's house was arranged in a way that meant I could get to the kitchen without going past Auntie Dora, so I managed to sneak three bread rolls, a packet of Cheesy Wotsits and a couple of marshmallows out of the back door. We were all ready, but there was one problem.  
“Which way is Hell?” I asked Marie.  
“I dunno. Maybe we should ask for directions?” she suggested.  
“Don't be silly,” I replied, “Only idiots ask for directions.”  
“Well what are we gonna do smarty-pants?”  
“I'll go home and get my map of the world.” 

“Back so soon?” asked Mummy, looking away from her Teletubbies DVD.   
“Yeah, I forgot something.” I got my map of the world and remembered I'd forgotten to take money. I keep it in a box which I lock and then put the key in another box then lock that and hide that key in my sock drawer. Mummy doesn’t go in my sock drawer because I fixed it to play Agadoo when it opens, and Mummy hates that song.

“Hey!” I complained when I opened my money box, “Where's all my money gone?” I haven't spent any in ages – I was saving it for an emergency, or a sports car. Then I noticed a pile of paper on the floor. I unfolded one of the pieces of paper and it read: IOU £2 – Phoebus. I unfolded the others and they all said similar things. The notes were from all the toys; most were from Phoebus and JJ, but even Mini-Mummy and Pretty-Dolly had taken £2.50 for cupcakes for my birthday present. All the notes added up to £25.78.  
“What have you done with all my money?” I demanded. This must be how JJ kept getting cigarettes and Scrawny-Bird-Thing paid for his Club Penguin subscription. “Right, all of you, get your money, I need it back now.” All the toys hurried off to the secret little cubby-holes in my room to fetch their money. Mini-Mummy had £5 she'd been saving for Christmas (Mini-Mummy likes to plan ahead – it was August), Pretty-Dolly had £1.50 and a coupon for a free Shakeaway milkshake, Archie had three buttons, 50p and a bus token. Phoebus had 5p and a gummy worm, Scrawny-Bird-Thing had a 5% off voucher for Sports Direct and 67p in ones and twos, and JJ had an empty packet of cigarettes, some sweet wrappers and a rather dirty 2p coin.  
“Well, we have... £7.74, some coupons and a load of other junk. Great.” We still didn't have much money – I doubted it would get us to Hell and back again.   
“I swear, I'll put you all in the Deformed Cupboard!” Then I had a brilliant idea. “Maybe the deformed toys have some money!” 

They did, and it brought us to a total of £11.63. That still didn't seem like much.  
“We'll have to find a way to get more money on the way. If we take plenty of food, then we'll be able to put off spending anything on food, and we can use that bus token for our first journey. We'd better take the milkshake card too – when we run out of food we can get the free milkshake.” I gathered up more food – mainly animal biscuits and cheese, as they were all Phoebus would eat (except strawberries, ham and grapes, which we didn't have). I decided Mini-Mummy should stay behind to help Pretty-Dolly to keep the others in order. It also meant more room and more food, since there were fewer people to share it between. I am a genius. I went to say goodbye to my real Mummy before we left, but she was asleep. I could tell she had been asleep for a while because Care Bears was on and I hadn't heard any screaming. Mummy can't stand Care Bears because someone in a Care Bear suit tried to strangle her on holiday when she was younger. It was best not to wake Mummy, but I switched the telly off in case she woke up and saw Care Bears.


	6. Chapter Six – How Many Times Will We Have to Go Back to the House?

It was just me, Marie and Phoebus, off on a quest to bring back my cousin from the clutches of Satan – hopefully in time for lunch or Mummy'll panic and eat the cushions: an unfortunate habit of hers. It runs in her family, but thankfully for me, it skips a generation.  
“So, where to?” asked Marie as we turned down one of the streets near my house. Truthfully, I didn't know where we were going, but I wasn't going to tell the others that, as they might doubt my leadership skills, which are very good. I once conducted a search party for Jean's rabbit, Pipipip (What a silly name. My suggestion – Gareth the One-Eyed Snail – suited him much more) and we found him in three hours – he was under Jean's bed eating the apple cores.  
“Hmm,” I muttered, “I know how we can get some more money!”  
“How?” asked Phoebus, eager for more animal biscuits.  
“Daddy's bank card! He doesn't need the money.” Daddy was nice and safe in his panic room.  
“Do you have it?” asked Marie.  
“No,” I admitted, “But I know where it is. We just have to go back and get it.”  
“Back to the house again?” complained Phoebus.  
“Shut up or we're leaving you there,” I threatened.

When we got back home, the clock said it was half past one. We had spent just about the whole morning searching for Jean (or trying to).  
“There you are Claude!” said Mummy, coming into the kitchen, “Lunch is on the table.” Deciding it would be a good idea to eat lunch, I went with Mummy and sat at the table. Mummy had made my favourite – pasta shapes and mini-sausages.  
“Thanks Mummy!” I scooped up a large forkful of pasta shapes – one of them looked like a dinosaur.

Lunch would have been quicker if Mummy hadn't made me eat pudding. Normally I like pudding best, so I pretended I wanted some to keep up appearances. That's very important when you're doing important stuff like I am. I had ice cream and jelly, but in different bowls because that's the best way to eat it – you can have two spoons and get ice cream with your left hand and jelly with your right.

“I'm going out again,” I called to Mummy as I hurried up the stairs.  
“Again?”  
“Yes – I have to save Jean, remember?” My mother has an awful memory – she's never been the same since that trip to the zoo in '03.  
“Just be back in time for tea!” Mummy shouted up the stairs.  
“I will.” I went into Mummy's room and went through Daddy's drawers where I got his socks from until I found his bank card.  
“You do know what to do with it, don't you?” asked Marie.  
“Yes,” I replied, “You put it in the machine and type in Daddy's number – 8100 – and it lets you get money. Now let's get going – we've only got until teatime to rescue Jean!” I picked up my rucksack and Phoebus, who'd promised to behave, and hurried out of the door again.

“Which way do we go now?” asked Marie.  
“That way,” I answered, pointing down a random street. I didn't actually know where the nearest pin-card machine was.  
“Isn't that where your old school was?” asked Marie curiously  
“Oh, so it is.” I used to complain about school to Marie – she listened to me better than Mummy, who just told me I'd get used to it, and Phoebus, who just said 'mumph bleh' – it really needs to stop talking with its mouth full. I shuddered – I had nightmares about that school for five years after I left – especially Circle Time. That was just plain scary.  
“Maybe we should go a different way?” Marie suggested.  
“Are you doubting my leadership skills?” I accused.  
“No,” said Marie quickly.  
“Full speed ahead!” yelled Phoebus, “Can I have some more animal biscuits?”  
“No!” I snapped. Phoebus had already eaten far too much of the food. If we wanted to get to Hell (and hopefully back again), we had to ration carefully.

We made our way down the street, which was lined with houses a lot like mine. I could see the horrible school at the end – I'm so glad I left that awful place, even if it does mean my only friends are Jean, Marie and the toys. In some of the gardens, people were outside. Some of the people were grown-ups cutting the hedges, mowing the lawns and watering the plants, but lots of them were children – it must be the summer holidays; the time when school shut so the teachers could migrate to Transylvania. That was in August, wasn't it? 

I reached the end and turned into another street. This one was almost deserted, except for a fat man washing his car with a hosepipe and a couple of children trying to strangle each other.  
“Hey!” called a voice from behind me, “What are you doing?”  
“I remember that voice...” I realised, turning around.  
“So do I,” said Phoebus, “It's Spiderman!”  
“No it isn't,” I corrected, “I know who it is.”


	7. Chapter Three – Esme-From-Science and her Dancing Pig

The person who had called me was a girl, and I recognised her, even though I hadn't seen her for years, because my memory is amazing, like most things about me. I knew her from the nightmares that used to haunt me about the awful place known as school. She was Esme-From-Science, and she had a dancing pig, which couldn't actually dance, called Porky. Esme-From-Science looked the same as I remembered her from when she used to flick bits of paper at me because I wouldn't lend her my crayons (because of the cooties), as opposed to how she appeared in the nightmares: dressed up as Po from the Teletubbies. She had dark, curly hair in bunches that looked like really burnt spaghetti and she smelled like peaches. I don't eat peaches because the last time I ate peaches I threw up.

“I remember you,” she exclaimed, “I sat next to you in maths.” Wait, I thought we'd been forced to sit next to each other in science, not maths. Maybe I should call her Esme-From-Maths? No, Esme-From-Science sounds better. Who cares if it's not strictly true?   
“You smell like peaches,” I commented, making small talk like a normal person while trying to retrieve my tranquiliser gun from my backpack. You can never be too careful with girls.  
“That's probably my shampoo,” said Esme-From-Science, sniffing her hair, “Do you want to see Porky's new dance?”  
“No, I have to rescue my cousin Jean from Hell.” I didn't have time for any of this – I had also left the tranquiliser gun in the house.   
“Ooh, can I come?” she asked eagerly, “I'm bored here.”  
“No,” I said firmly, “You're a girl. You have cooties.”  
“No I don't!”  
“You do!” I insisted, “All girls have them.” Obviously school hadn't done much for Esme-From-Science's education. She should have left like I did.  
“Please let me come.”  
“Go on,” urged Phoebus, “She looks like fun.”  
“Shut up Phoebus,” I hissed, “She's not coming.”  
“Did that doll just talk?” interrupted Esme-From-Science. That really freaked me out – normally only I could hear the toys. Everyone else just assumed they were objects with no brain, which was true in Phoebus's case at least, but not completely accurate.  
“It's not a doll,” I snapped, “It's Phoebus.” She definitely needed more educating.  
“Why did you call her Phoebus? That's a boy's name.”  
“It's not a 'her', it's an 'it'.” Esme-From-Science looked confused. Nobody understands these things!  
“What do you think, Marie?” I asked, seeing as she was the only person I could trust.  
“I think she should come,” she answered in Fire-Language.  
“Yay!” cheered Esme-From-Science.  
“Did you hear her?” I asked incredulously. Nobody but I can hear Marie either, and they certainly can't speak fire language.  
“Oh yes,” said Esme-From-Science, “I've always been able to talk to the Fire-Spirits, even when I was little. What are you called?”  
“Marie,” Marie answered.  
“Nice name.”  
I didn't really want to take Esme-From-Science with me, but Marie thought I should, so reluctantly agreed to let Esme-From-Science accompany us. After all, Marie is a Fire-Spirit, and they know lots of stuff that people don't. In fact, it might actually be useful to have another person who could speak to fire-spirits, even if they did happen to be a girl and have cooties and a twisted soul.  
“Yay, I'm going on an actual adventure!” Esme-From-Science jumped up and down happily.  
“But,” I cut in, “You have to take my special anti-cootie-vaccine – I invented it myself.”  
“OK...” agreed Esme-From-Science reluctantly. I dug inside my rucksack and after a minute or so of rummaging, I realised that we had left the cootie-vaccine at home.   
“Ugh! Cursed polyhedrons!” Polyhedrons are the most cursed kind of shape.  
“What?”  
“I've left it at home.” Why do these things always happen to me?  
“Can I still come?” asked Esme-From-Science apprehensively.  
“Probably – but I'll have to make some more cootie medicine.”  
“Is it hard?”  
“Not really,” I answered. It was easy for someone as clever as me, anyway.  
“What do you need?”  
“Water, sugar, salt and pepper,” I answered.  
“Oh, I have those in my house!” said Esme-From-Science happily, “Follow me!”  
“...Go in your house?” It was probably full of cooties and man-eating tigers and even – Barbie dolls! Ugh.  
“Yes – but nobody's home.” Hmm, an interesting dilemma. I needed to go in Esme-From-Science's house to make more cootie medicine, but Esme-From-Science's house was probably really creepy and full of evil pink stuff.  
“Pleeeeeeease,” begged Esme-From-Science, “I really want to come!”  
“Fine,” I allowed. I'd had cootie medicine after lunch – I should be OK. But just in case, I put on my gas mask, which I had constructed myself out of things I found in the shed.  
“Yay! This is gonna be so much fun.” Esme-From-Science opened the gate and I followed her up the path and through the front door, accompanied by Marie and Phoebus, who was singing 'Beer': one of Jean's favourite songs, which I would write out for you if I had time.

Esme-From-Science's house smelled a lot less like peaches than she did, and there were lots of pictures and ornaments of chickens. Chickens everywhere.   
“My mum likes chickens,” she explained when she saw me staring at them.  
“My mummy doesn't like birds,” I informed her, “They freak her out. She won't even watch that show with Bill Oddie.” I had to change the channel to stop her screaming.  
“I like that show,” said Esme-From-Science, “Come on, the kitchen's through here.” She grabbed my arm and tried to steer me though the door.  
“AAAAH, COOTIES, COOTIES!” I snatched my arm away, expecting it to break out in purple spots or something. It looked OK. Maybe these were delayed-reaction cooties – the most deadly kind.  
“Sorry!” gasped Esme-From-Science, “I forgot. The kitchen's in here.” The kitchen, like the hallway, was full of chicken ornaments. What a weird house.  
“Salt, pepper, sugar...” Esme-From-Science opened the cupboards and took out the ingredients while I stood there scratching my arm yelling 'GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF!!!'  
“And we can get water from the tap. Do we have to mix it in a special container?”  
“No, any cup'll do as long as it isn't pink.” Pink is evil – cooties feed on it.  
“OK. I don't actually like pink.” She stuck her tongue out and wrinkled up her nose, reminding me quite a lot of Jean's rabbit Pipipip, except without the floppy ears.  
“Right,” I began, taking the cup – it was purple, “First, we fill it a third full with water... Now we put the sugar in – one teaspoon. Good, now I stir it with my right hand six times...” I was good at this – one day I would have my own cooking show. “Then another third of water... and half a teaspoon of pepper. Stir five times with my left hand... good, now more water. Almost... stop!! Now a pinch of salt. Stir once with right hand and twice with left... it's done!”  
“What do we do now?” asked Esme-From-Science.  
“Now we drink it,” I answered. Duhhhhh. She was dumb, even for a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Phoebus is singing is this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzcEG_JoVuo

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Jean's name is pronounced 'Jeen' like the female name, not 'Jon' like Jean Valjean. That's why Claude makes a point of telling you he's a boy.


End file.
